


The Erotic Gropefest I'd Always Imagined

by EdenM



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Canon Compliant, Except no mention of tail/wings, Fluff and Smut, For real serious kinky smut, M/M, NSFW or innocents, Possible magic reignition, Simon discovers a new passion, Takes place a couple weeks after the end of Carry On, sex is coming, watch out, with some plot, you’ve been warned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-24
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-10-15 10:25:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 20,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17527019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EdenM/pseuds/EdenM
Summary: Simon and Baz go to see a play and things heat up





	1. Chapter 1

SIMON

Baz took me to a play tonight – the Harry Potter play. I really, really liked it. Like a lot. Not so much for the Harry Potter storyline, that was kinda bollocks if I’m being honest. But because the actors and the whole production were stunning. I’ve never seen anything like it. It was quite frankly, magic. It felt the most like magic that I’ve felt since last Christmas. I’ve never been to a play before. 

He takes my hand as we file out and says, “Did you think Harry and Draco were as fit as I did? I kinda wish they’d gotten together instead…."

“Babe, not everything has gay subtext."

“If you say so,” he says, eyebrows raised in exaggerated incredulity. And then he wraps me up in his arms, elegantly shifts my weight and dips me back like a ballroom dancer, planting a sensual kiss on my lips. Then he scoops me back up and says “I’ll gay your subtext anytime.”

I roll my eyes and pretend to be embarrassed but secretly just want to lie down and let him kiss me some more. He suggests we grab some dinner before heading back home, and I consider sharing my last thought with him – about the lying down and the kissing – and decide I can put that on the back burner for a minute. I can always eat. Baz is really good at picking restaurants too, the posh git.

We pop into something that looks like a gastropub, but I can tell by the outfits the customers are wearing that it’s probably got a Michelin star or two. Baz is walking slightly ahead of me and I can't help but stare at his ass in the fucking fittest pair of jeans I’ve ever seen him in. Crowley, I could use a drink. I don’t think I’ve been this hot for him since all the shit went down last year. Maybe at Leaver’s I guess. I wanted to shag in our room at Munner’s, I swear I did. I don’t know why I didn't. We just laid out under the stars the whole night, reliving the time that we walked amongst them. There was excellent snogging. Over the clothes heavy petting even. But no shagging. I didn’t even go back to his – I mean our – room. I just couldn’t get it together enough for that. I’m growing slightly agitated just thinking about Watford, and I swear Baz can sense it the moment my pulse elevates even slightly. It’s like dating a mind reader. 

He swings his gorgeous face around and searches my eyes for signs of why I’m freaking out. Just to mess with him, I put on the calmest, happiest face ever, like I have absolutely no idea why he might think I was anxious. He just gives me a relieved smile and firm squeeze of my hand as he pulls me closer to him in our dim booth. The things I could do to him here…. I should…. Maybe I will…. I probably won’t. I need to stop thinking so much and act on some of these feelings. What if he thinks I don’t fancy him as much as he fancies me? He’d have to be an idiot, right? And he’s no idiot. Everyone can see I’m obsessed with him! I try to ignore the voice in my head that reminds me he was suicidal once… that he has at least as many issues as I do ... especially when it comes to feeling worthy of my affection. I should try harder to show him how I feel, not just think about it all the time. 

 

BAZ

Oh goody, the thousand yard stare is back. I could have sworn I felt him panic a minute ago, but he packed it away as soon as I noticed. I should try to be more subtle about reading his biometric measurements. That’s probably a creepy thing for your boyfriend to do to you all the time. Making mental note. 

He was adorable after the play, and I don’t know if I imagined it, but maybe even a bit lustful? for a minute? Then he panicked and now he’s….gone. Where the fuck does he go? I like to think of him wandering happily among the stars I once cast us into. That’s where I go about 50% of the time I’m daydreaming. OK, 25% of the time, at most. The other times we have no clothes on. 

But I know it’s not there he gets off to in his mind. More likely the top of the White Chapel. Either killing the Humdrum or almost being killed by the Mage. Fucking MAGE. God, I hate that bastard more now than I did before. More than I did the day I found out he sent the numpties and the vampires and killed my mother and ruined my life. Every day I find new side effects of the colossal mindfuck he performed on Simon Snow his whole life. I hate him with the passion of a billion fiery suns.

And now Simon’s back to earth and waving his hand in front of my face, trying to find out why I look like I’m about to go full-on vicious vampire and kill everyone in this place. Shit. I’m the creepy boyfriend again. Get your shit together Baz. Tell him he looks lovely tonight. He looks like the sun. Like a million puppies. Like my white knight. His soft hand rises to stroke my cheek, searching my eyes, and he smiles and laughs a little when he finds softness there. Christ what a pair we are. I just want to kiss it all away. “I love you.” Oops, I think I said that part out loud. 

I’m not worried though. He knows it. I’ve basically said it in a bunch of different ways already. 

I’m not worried, but I nervously raise my gaze to see how he is reacting to the first time I actually said I love you. Aw, fuck, he’s smiling that million watt smile of his. He leans in and places his soft lips on mine for a sweet wet kiss…just lips pressed against lips. After a second, he lets off the pressure of the kiss, but he leaves his lips lingering there on mine as he murmurs “I love you too, darling.” Darling! I let out an embarrassing noise halfway between a squeal and a grunt. I can’t help it, relief courses through every part of my body. I let my head fall down to his shoulder and I bury myself there. Softly pressing my nose and then my lips to my favorite mole. The one I kiss at least 15 times every time I see him. I’m so happy he loves me back. I didn’t even know I was worried about that until just now. An enormous weight is lifted off my shoulders. I feel happier than I have in months….possibly ever, actually. I let out a deep breath before summoning enough courage to leave the safety of the crook of his neck and face him again. He seems surprised that I’m reacting like this. 

“Did you not know, love? Did you think I had any doubt about my feelings for you?” 

“I don’t know Snow. I just really liked hearing it. And saying it. I’m just glad I can finally be open about it. Simon. My love. My boyfriend. My Simon.” I remembered to say his first name there at the end. And then said it again. It gets him so fucking hot and bothered. Why do I always forget to use that weapon against him? I really am bloody thick. Probably could’ve gotten us here five times faster if I always remembered to say it. But old habits die hard. And, anyway, I’m pretty okay with how long it took us to get here. 

I’m in no rush. I want him for my whole entire life. Not just for a little while. I’m not even trying to hide it – from myself anyway – I’m not sure he’s ready for me to tell him I want to spend my entire life with him. He probably knows it deep down though. I would propose right this second, without a single hesitation, if that's what he wanted right now. I literally want nothing more than Snow, all the time, forever. But I also love that there’s still much more to discover and find out. Like how he looks when we’re making love. When he comes. How he tastes. I still don’t even know what his cock looks like. That’s how fucking G-Rated we’ve kept this so far. Like some kind of Victorian novel. Sleeping together nearly every damn night while denying ourselves what any normal horny red-blooded 19 year old boys in love would obviously be doing all the time. It’s not because we’re punishing ourselves. We’re pacing ourselves. I know that. It’s fine. It’s good. I’m glad we’ve done it. I’m starting to crave a little bit more, that’s all. I crave and obsess over physical intimacy with him the way I used to crave and obsess over shared glances between us, any interactions with him. I’m hard right now just thinking about the potential of being with him like that, and it’s been 24 hours since I had any blood. Christ where is the blood in my cock even coming from, I must be paler than pale. I must be negative white. Simon’s saying something now. Better tune in…

“Baz, what do you think about acting? Like as a career?”

“For you?” 

“Yeah,” Snow says, turning a bit crimson around the edges. Why is he embarrassed? “I was wondering if I’d be any good at it. I’ve got all these big … feelings … all the time, you know. I still feel so … messy. So about-to-go-off all the time. All that energy is still there, it’s just that it doesn’t have any way out of me like it used to. That’s why I’m such a basket case. I wonder, is acting a good way to channel it out? I just really loved watching that play. The actors. They were SO GOOD. I wish I could be that good at anything. Anything other than magically blowing shit up, that is.”

“It seems like a great idea, love. I bet you would be good at it. And God knows you’re fucking gorgeous enough. People think Leonardo DiCaprio is the hottest thing in the world, and you’re at least twice as fit as he is. Hmm. Come to think of it … no… I don’t like this idea very much.” I smile warmly while also instantly starting to grow jealous of the imaginary future costars and adoring fans who will undoubtedly try to steal him from me and shag that adorable puppy look off his face. “What?” I recover quickly.

“I was saying I should change my schedule first term, try and get in a theatre class, yeah? No point planning a new career when I could be full on shit at acting.”

“I very much doubt that. Despite what I painstakingly tried to make you believe all those years – Because I was a gigantic asshat and I’m sooooo sorry about that, love – you are really good at pretty much everything, and everyone who meets you loves you instantly. And it hasn’t gone away even a smidge since you lost your magic. And you know that, don’t you, you cocky git. You actual nightmare. Or do you not see all the extra smiles and long double takes you get from every goddamn barista, waiter and check-out boy and girl in London? Christ. Just think of the lovesick TAs you’re going to encounter. I didn’t think this crush through. I’m literally going to have to make beating people off you with a stick my full time job. Father will be so disappointed.” Simon is smiling and beaming because he can tell I’m joking and because he loves to be complimented like this. Who doesn’t?

“Heh, beating people off,” Simon says. Because he’s a moron, a 5 year old. “Hey Beavis, how bout you figure out what you’d like to order, so I can take you home and wipe that smirk off your face.” Christ, I want to dip down in this booth right now. Or take him to the restroom and…. Wait. That’s not exactly the proper way to have your first time with your first and only love, I suppose. The cravings are growing stronger by the minute. I think it’s because I can actually feel him opening up more, every second, right here tonight. I don’t even know what’s changed. Maybe it’s this acting idea. Maybe he finally landed on something that excites him half as much as magic did. But there’s a bigger spark behind his eyes than I’ve seen in a long time. It’s almost exactly like Old Simon is back. Hallelujah. 

I place my hand on his upper thigh and give it a squeeze, lightly grazing the side of his off limits parts. It’s more liberty than I’m used to taking. I’m rewarded with a sharp intake of breath and then a soft moan as Simon bites his lower lip and his eyes glaze over a bit. This goddamn dinner was a terrible idea. 

“We’ll have the pizza margherita – to go please,” Simon tells the waiter. That’s my boy. My hand, which has migrated to between his thighs, just below the promised land, scoops around to grab hold of his perfect ass. “You won’t regret this,” I whisper hoarsely. He lifts his lust-filled eyes to mine and brings our lips together. He enters my mouth eagerly and dominates it. It’s. so. good. God his kisses are so fucking good. He’s fully hard now, I can feel it pressed against my forearm. I have little doubt that Mr. Chosen One has a big and beautiful cock. Everything I have gleaned so far points to this. I also doubt he will be disappointed in me. As long as I’ve had some blood, I’ve got nothing to worry about. That reminds me. I’m going to have to use that packet of blood I’ve got saved in his fridge. A detour for a feed will simply not do. 

I am beginning to wonder how far we’re really going to take this tonight, now that we’ve both fully indicated our intention to take this somewhere. 

The mind reels at the possibility. I wonder if he will let me take him. It’s what I so long to do. I’ll be okay if he wants to go the other way. I understand. It’s just, I love him so damn much, the way Romeo loved Juliet. He’s so precious to me. And something deep, carnal and paternalistic in me just wants to take him, own him, and come deep inside him. Because I’m disturbed. Ask anyone. I wonder what it is he really wants?

 

SIMON

Oh. My. God. I don’t even know what is happening. But… yeah … this is happening. It’s finally happening. And ... I’m ready. I want him. I want him badly. I want him to take me tonight. Is that too fast? We’ve never really done anything with our clothes off. I think it’s like we always knew once we go down that road, there’s no going back to this sweet innocent courtship place. Like that phase will be over. Am I ready for that phase to be over? Am I ready for the non-stop fuck fest this is bound to become. Because it’s us. And we’re so fucking hot for each other. We’re combustible. Honestly, I hope Baz doesn’t combust when we do this. I would, I think, if I were as flammable as he is. I’m burning up right now. For once, I think it’s good that I don’t have magic anymore. What if I went off like a bomb on him during sex? What if I couldn’t help it, and he got hurt. Or I destroyed the apartment. But god, I bet it would’ve felt good though. 

After a brief pause to mourn the loss of what an explosive magickal orgasm mindmeld with Baz would've felt like (GODDAMNIT WHY DIDN’T WE FUCK IN HAMPSHIRE, WHAT THE FUCK WERE WE THINKING?!?) I come back round to being excited about the gorgeous bloke who is currently, unbeknownst to anyone in this restaurant right now, applying pressure to both my cock and my ass at the same time right now and driving me Up. The. Wall. And I cannot wait to experience Normal sex with him. He probably thinks I want to fuck him, just because of you know, being with Agatha before, but I don’t. Somehow my body, the remnants of my magic maybe? are telling me that what I want is for him to fuck me. I want to be dominated by him. He’s so fucking high and mighty, so fucking cocksure, and I am so fucking here for it. I want him to take control of me in every way. Shit, I think I might come right now just thinking of it. I’m burning up. Like I think I might actually go off. I just wonder in what way. It feels remarkably similar to the way I used to feel with magic. Am I blurring slightly at the edges, or is it my imagination? 

 

BAZ

I stiffen slightly because I smell Simon. Old Simon. His magic. What the actual fuck? Why am I smelling it? Is my sex-addled brain hallucinating it or is it real? God knows I’ve got sexual tension pent up for miles in that smell. Maybe I’m just imagining it. Even if I’m not, I do not want to let on to Simon that I am smelling it. He doesn’t need that kind of pressure or disappointment in his life. I DON’T NEED THAT KIND OF PRESSURE OR DISAPPOINTMENT IN HIS LIFE. I NEED TO GET LAID FOR CHRIST SAKE. For the love of all that is magic, don’t fuck with us right now, Simon’s magic!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post play dinner date continues. Dilemmas and Desire surface

SIMON

Crikey, I feel reignited inside. I know this feeling, I recognize it, even if it is fainter than it used to be before. It’s definitely not just me confusing lust for magic. If so, I have the same INTENSITY PROBLEM with lust that I did with magic. And surely it would’ve cropped up earlier. 

This may be the closest we’ve come to actually having sex, but it’s not the first time I’ve wanted to shag Baz senseless, that I’ve ached from head to toe with want of it. 

It is the first time I’ve felt the burning current in my body since I pushed it all into my 11 year old former self and made him disappear. I think it’s definitely linked to the sexual desire I’m feeling – and how close we are to actually consummating it. He is the sun and I’m crashing into him. This will end in flames. 

Or – perhaps? – dare I hope? – maybe it will just end with orgasms and my magic coming back to me. In a lighter, friendlier, more controllable form. Without horrific worldwide repercussions. I mean, it’s me, so a happy uncomplicated ending isn’t exactly the likeliest scenario. I don’t know how it will end. I just know that my attraction to him – my need for him – it’s compulsive and I’m not fully in control of it. Like my magic is pushing me into it. 

I suddenly worry we should pull out. Stop now. Be sensible. What if I hurt him? Or finally actually do go supernova and burn up from the inside out. What if I open up another hole, bring back the humdrum or create another new monster. 

Like…seriously…. How fucked up can my life get? It’s not enough to lose the only thing that made me me? To kill my father figure by accident because he secretly wanted to kill me? To be 19 and in love for the very first time, grappling with a major change in my sexuality, and finally beginning to feel ready and open enough to lose my virginity to the one person that means more to me than anything in the world – damn the torpedoes, the homophobes and the white picket fence I thought I was going to live in with Agatha - 

AS IF THE STAKES WEREN’T HIGH ENOUGH WITH ALL THAT, now I’ve got to seriously consider the possibility that me having sex with my beloved boyfriend might bring on a life-or-death, end-of-the-world kind of shit show. It’s a cruel joke. Lemony Snicket couldn’t make this up. 

But, I’m sorry. I can’t NOT be with Baz. Now that I’ve finally opened my mind to the idea – had a full-on vision of us together locked in obscene glory at our cores (and loved everything about what I saw) – I can’t turn back. I won’t. I won’t wait my whole life for the moment to be right. Honestly, I won’t even wait for rest of the night. We’re doing this now – TONIGHT – or else I think the world really might end. I’m so sick of being brave and selfless and putting everyone else’s needs above my own.

Poor Baz has no idea what kind of decisions I’m making in my head right now. As always, I can tell he knows I’m wrestling with something. He probably smelled my magic like he used to. He’s looking at me with unusual intensity, which is a high bar, for him. He’s moved the hand that was between my legs and now has one arm behind me and one arm in front of me, looping me in a firm embrace that I swear would support me even if I was about to drop dead on the table. Super strength. Sigh.

The pizza arrives at the exact moment I was going to ask him if we could bail. He throws down fifty quid and I leave the box sitting there as we exit the booth. For once eating is literally the last thing I want to do.

“Take me home or lose me forever, Baz,” I say, quoting one of our mutual favorite movies, trying to lighten the mood a tiny bit. I hope Penny’s not up when we get there. I love her to death, I swear I do, but I will literally mow her down on my way to the bedroom if she is. There is only Baz. And my magic. His cock. My ass.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More angsty foreplay thoughts and the boys head home

Chapter 3

BAZ

I’m beyond WTF right now. I know I’m smelling his magic. I know he is freaking out. I also know he wants me. Imminently. The pheromones don’t lie. And I know that I want him and that I’m freaking out. Basically, I’m just done trying to figure us out. It doesn’t make sense. It never will make sense. We only make sense together because we match. We just have to cling tightly to each other and enjoy the ride. Whether it takes us over the moon or ends in a fiery crash – it’s anyone’s bet. I don’t even care. As long as I’m with him. As long as he’s happy. I’m happy.

The quiet, intense build-up thing continues on our uber ride home, with brief unsuccessful attempts by Simon to flirt, caress my leg or stare meaningfully into my eyes. Sorry love. I’m looking out the window. Pointedly. Hands clasped tightly on my lap. He and I just handle things differently. Merlin love him, he has trouble dealing with tension. I have trouble shifting gears, pretending to be all light and fluffy when I’m raging hard and fast. I prefer to shut down – press pause – until we are ensconced in sanctuary of Simon’s bedroom. 

He knows I’m not mad or upset at him. I’m just tabling the intense shit going down right now. He gives up trying to engage and sits pensively, like the good agreeable beautiful goddamn golden boy he’s always been. The smell of his magic went away as soon as we left the booth. It comes back about a minute after he retreats into his head. And it grows stronger and stronger the closer we get to our stop. Interesting. 

It’s at like 40% – maybe 50% – strength. Yes it’s embarrassing that I have him down to that much of a science. I majored in Simon Fucking Snow, what’s your point? It’s currently about as strong as it used to be when I would tease him mercilessly in class or our dorm room. Not “Watch out he’s about to blow” strong. But it definitely would have alerted me that the potential was there.

We hightail it into the building and then run up the stairs. I’m ahead of him and don’t even stop when I reach his floor, just carry on towards his door, spelling it open and rushing towards his bedroom, willing him to keep up. Penny is either not home or fast asleep, thank magic. I’m back in his room sitting on the edge of his bed when he enters, quietly trying to catch his breath. The he fixes his face with the most adorable look of determined concentration I’ve ever seen. Mouth open, hint of tongue poking through, brow furrowed. As if fucking me is the same as trying to pass one of Possibelf’s tests. Crowley I love him so much.

He stands directly in front of me and then he threads both his hands through my hair on either side by my ears, tugging ever so slightly as he knows I love. I sigh loudly and slump towards him, nestling my face against his abs. I wrap my arms around his waist and pull my wand out of my shirtsleeve to put a soundproofing spell on the room.

“Simon. My love, What are you thinking of?”

“Just you, mostly.”

I raise my eyebrows to just above mid-staff. And that magic hanging about in the air, I ask telepathically. He doesn’t have to read my mind to know what I’m hinting at. 

“I don’t know. Do you think we could just not talk about it? I don’t have a clue. It’s the first time since last year.”

“That’s okay by me.” I pull him closer and lower my arms to bend his legs and force him onto my lap. He complies. We’re hugging each other tight, every part of us touching as I gently smooth my hands up and down his back.  
“We don’t have to do this you know. I mean, I want to, Crowley, I want to, but I am perfectly happy to wait until we know what …you know… this is all about.”

“It’s okay. I think I already know what it’s about. My feelings for you are growing ... stronger … more …. urgent … I think it’s kindling my magic a little bit. I guess it wasn’t dead after all?” 

We’re still hugging so I can’t see him, but I suddenly feel his blood rising to his skin. I know the precise shades of rose and magenta his cheeks, lips and ears must be right now and I curse this hug that blocks me from viewing it. He’s embarrassed by what he’s about to say to me. I just wait calmly. 

“Baz” He takes a deep breath. “I want this. I need you. Now.” He exhales. “I’m not using you to unlock my magic, if that’s what you’re thinking. I’m using you because you’re sexy as fuck. And because I love you and you have made me feel so loved and protected this year. And my body needs to show you how I feel. Needs you to know that I feel EXACTLY as strongly for you as you feel for me. Seriously. Probably even more. You don’t even know how far gone I am now that my mind finally got caught up.” 

I’m finding it hard to breathe as he takes another deep breath and steels his spine. He leans back and moves his hands from my scalp to the front of my face. He looks me straight in the eyes, the brave fuck, and says, “Most of all, I want to feel you inside me, I want to taste you. I want to make you come like five times tonight. I’m all in. Are you with me?” And then I black out. Just kidding. But it feels like I might. Finally I inhale. Once. Twice. And after the third deep breath I feel like I can move on. I lunge for his mouth with my own and simultaneously lift him up and flip us over, gently pinning him beneath me on the bed. 

“Does this answer your question,” I growl, baring my fangs briefly and grinding my hard cock against his. Shit, forgot the blood. What is wrong with me!? Whatever...everything seems to be working down there. Thank Dracula.

I kiss him long and slow, sucking and tangling with his tongue as I slowly unbutton down his shirt. He is letting me set the place. His contribution to this makeout session currently consists of inexpert tugs at the back of my shirt so he can make skin to skin contact with my hips. I break the kiss and rise up to survey this bloody beautiful hot mess beneath me. His pupils are 1000 % blown. There is no. discernible. blue. in his eyes. 

His mouth is hanging wide open, tongue pressed against his lower teeth like a neanderthal. He’s panting. Confused. 

Where did all the touching and the tonguing go – his helpless expression reads. Fuck. My. Life. I am so DEAD. 

I jerk his pants off with one bloody brilliant pull. Because I don’t have time to undo his belt or unzip his pants. It’s that much more of a scene when I look down at his pants, belt and underwear hovering awkwardly above his knees. Its goddamned indecent. Then I remember to look up a bit.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Baz gets a first look.

BAZ

Fuck, I was right. That is a beautiful cock. 

That thing. All by itself. Is worthy of the title The Chosen One. Or the Greatest Mage That Ever Lived.

I stare at it in full on wonder and awe, like people witnessing a miracle in biblical times, I imagine. 

It’s big. Like 8 or 9 inches maybe. And wide. Crowley it’s wide. It’s a little bit veiny, but not too veiny, fully straight, with a perfect, amazing, proportional, symmetrical, magickal fucking crown on top. And his balls, goddamn, those are anatomically perfect balls. Perfectly round, high, tight and wrinkly, at the moment, because he’s turned on as hell. A perfect little white ridge divides his rosy sack into two perfect halves. 

I was right. We match. He might have half an inch on me in girth – maybe – and I might have half an inch on him in length – perhaps. But damn, even without the visual of my cock right next to his, I know his is almost exactly like mine.

Simon is still lying down on the bed, propped up on his elbows, shirt unbuttoned but not removed, pants and knickers still hanging at his knees. His hair’s an absolute wreck, of course. It’s lost most of its curl and is standing straight up as if it’s some kind of bloody visual representation of the electric current thrumming through his definitely remagicked body. I’ve been staring at him a while now. Neither he nor I has moved a fucking muscle. Since I started looking at that bloody beautiful cock it has risen. I’d say it was at approximately a 70◦ angle when I first saw it. It’s above 100◦ now. Maybe like 110◦? (Simon Snow IS a mathematical equation, I honestly don’t care whether or not you agree.) The point is – my looking at him is exciting him and making him rise.

Eventually he clears his throat to remind me he’s here, not just his cock. I don’t even look up, because I’ve only just now noticed there are at least three new moles around his cock that I’ve never met before. One at the upper left crook of his thigh, one near the bottom of his right testicle and one near the top right just a mm or two away from his cock.

I’ll take care of those first – obviously. 

I start by licking the one on the top right, and then kissing it, and then sucking on it. I whisper hello and tell it a secret. (Fuck you and your judgment.) And then I start making my way round clockwise. I think Simon might be crying?? I can’t be sure. There’s definitely some kind of loud jerky whiny sound emitting from him. I glance up. No tears. No sadness. Just noises he has absolutely zero control over. He is actual heaven.

His eyes are like two glazed saucers and his mouth is a perfect lazy oval. I have half a mind to slap it (not hard), but then I think I should kiss it instead. Even though I’ve already kissed it. A lot. For the past 8 months. But I’ve never had access to this magickal fucking wonderland down here. I can’t help it, his mouth will ALWAYS call to me. No matter how much I taste it, I will never get enough. But I don’t reach for his mouth, I stay the course and make my way round to all three moles.

And then slowly, ever so slowly, I make my way down to his 6 oclock and lick his perineum right at the base of his balls. Three or five or maybe eight little licks, hard to be sure. He tastes fucking delicious down there, like some kind of salty sweet bagel. And then I drag my tongue up that little line dividing his scrotum in two, and then I take his right testicle entirely into my mouth. I work it round a bit, trying to loosen it up from the clingy puckered skin that contains it. I want to roll it around a bit in my mouth. But the harder I try, the tighter it becomes. No matter, I move round to the left one now. 

Meanwhile my right hand slides up to grasp his shaft firmly and give a little tug. Crimeny, at the base I can only just barely wrap my hand around him. My thumb and my middle finger only touch when I squeeze tight. I return to his perineum for a second for a quick lick. Then trail back up his white line while pulling his cock higher and higher towards his abdomen. I want to lick his actual cock from base to tip.

He’s speaking in tongues now…apparently.... I have no idea what he is trying to say. His eyes are fluttering back in his head and he cannot form a word to save his life. I’m not even going to ask, just keep focusing on my task. The room has filled with the smell of his magic. But it is thick and calm – benevolent even – not sharp and menacing as if on its way to a frenzied peak. I'm so curious how his magic will react to his orgasm, but I’m not quite ready to find out yet. I want to suck him until he explodes, not just passively witness it. In that case, judging by the look on Simon’s face – and the fact that I'm about to blow my load and I’m fully clothed and no one’s even touched me yet – I guess I better get started.

It's so hard to balance my desire to please Simon and get him off with my desire to drive him stark raving mad (for me). I want to prolong his agony a little bit further so that it’s that much better when it turns to ecstasy (and so much clearer who he wants and needs in his life). Driving him batshit crazy is basically wired into the DNA of our relationship. I love him more than anyone should legally be allowed to love another person, but I will never stop wanting to be his nemesis, his antagonist, as well.

Currently I’m not even touching him, just thinking and looking. Snow finally appears to have noticed. Like the a horror movie villain you could've sworn was dead, he suddenly gasps, lifts his head and opens his eyes wide, glaring at me like: What the fuck are you waiting for, you bastard?! 

He’s trying to challenge me and order me to please his carnal desire. 

Ha!!!! What. The. Fuck. Does. He. Know. About. Want?

Nothing. 

I haven't lost a stare down with him yet, and I’m not about to start now. So I meet the challenge in his eyes with my most condescending, intimidating, devastating gaze.

YOU WILL WAIT POLITELY FOR ME AND DO AS YOU’RE TOLD, OR ELSE I WILL PUT YOU IN A FUCKING CORNER AND I MIGHT NEVER PULL YOU OUT.

He breaks eye contact for a split second while he makes a whole scene with a parched, painful-looking swallow. My first instinct is to rip that goddamn Adam’s apple out of his throat with my fangs. 

But instead I make sure he registers the smug look of victory on my face, as he poutily lowers his gaze and comes to heel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your comments and kudos are fantastic fuel! Thank you for them, keep em coming and let me know if you have any thoughts or suggestions!!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Baz gets his first taste.... And a surprise.

Now that he’s reminded who’s in charge… I reward him by popping the glorious head of his cock into my mouth, swirling round its tight edges hungrily with my tongue. 

Then things seem to shift into hyperdrive for a bit, and I can’t help it. I’ve used up all of my willpower keeping things at this painfully slow pace. And before I know it my lips are more than halfway down his shaft and I’m lapping at him with abandon, like a newborn calf at the teet. 

I’ve got him as deep as I can comfortably have him, not wishing to complicate matters and unpredictable fangs by attempting to add deep throat to my burgeoning resume. My right hand makes up the difference in his length, encircling the base of his shaft and lightly moving counter clockwise and clockwise and up and down. 

I stop using my left hand to stabilize myself and bring a pillow to place under my knees, now bearing my full weight. I decide to rest my newly freed left hand right between the cheeks of Simon Snow’s semi-widespread ass, not forcing myself all the way to the goal line, just lingering there at that point where the width of my hand meets the resistance of his dueling mounds. My middle finger is alert and aching to pull the trigger whenever my brain gives the go-ahead. 

I’m still sucking him long, deep and hard, as my mouth and my hand find a beautiful rhythm together. As the first time giver of a blowjob, I’m actually quite proud of myself. But, Mary Mother of God, I did not expect Simon to last this long. 

I mean that as a compliment to him, not an insult to me – considering the painfully responsive, wanton, electric state he’s been in this entire time. 

It’s like he’s been two seconds away from coming for about 5 minutes now. ??What the fuck??

You know those intensely blissful bittersweet 2 seconds just before you come? Where it feels. So. Good. But you know that it’s about to be over? And you wish could somehow make last forever, or 5 seconds longer at least? 

Well, he’s found a way to make it last for fucking ever, apparently. I wonder if he is unconsciously using his magic to withstand my now escalating assault. Like when the thought “I wish I could fly” entered his brain and then he instantaneously grew a working pair of wings. Ungrateful bastard, that’s what he is. 

I decide the time is right to extend the middle finger strategically placed above his asshole. It lightly grazes over its target (what I can only imagine is the world’s most perfect puckered red rose). And just like that – he’s gone. He grabs my hair, eyes filled with panic as the first blissful splash registers in the back of my throat. My lips curl up gently and I nod, belatedly giving him the permission he seeks to come in my mouth. 

He unloads with splash-grunt-splash after splash-grunt-splash, head lolling aggressively back, that fucking apple bobbing wildly at the apex of his throat. 

Fucking hell, maybe it wasn’t belated permission, after all. Because somehow Snow just keeps shooting hot ropes of delicious come in my mouth. And I greedily swallow every single one of them down and silently beg him for more. When the final tiny jerk of an aftershock subsides I check my mental clock. I swear to god he shot come in my mouth for 60 seconds or more. Who in the world has that much come? 

Bloody Simon Snow, of course. 

Must he do absolutely everything better than everyone else in the world?

I finally retract my aching jaw from its diligent post, and I pull his legs a little closer together, folding my arms across his thighs and resting my head just beneath his beautiful, exhausted, chapped red cock. 

I look up and over it to worship the beautiful bronze god I’ve somehow tricked into giving this beautiful gift. I’m not worthy. I’m not worthy. I think. Of this magnificent beast. Who appears to have finally gained enough equilibrium to raise his head back up, find my gaze and bestow upon me the world’s most perfect smile. 

I move to rise up and give him a kiss. 

I’ve enjoyed myself, OBVIOUSLY, but also – for some reason I can’t explain – I’ve missed him. 

As I start to move round, I’m surprised to feel something a lot like satiety in my belly. The kind that only comes after I’ve had a full feeding. Of blood. I was basically bloodstarved when this started, right? And now suddenly I feel blush rising to my cheeks and the heavy ache of blood rushing to my cock (reminding me that my balls are growing bluer by the second). 

Holy Shit. I wonder if Simon’s come ( ??? anyone’s come ??? ) is an actual substitute for my vampire-need to drink blood. 

If so… HOW THE FUCK DID I GO THIS LONG WITHOUT ANYONE TELLING ME THAT !?

Well that just breaks this whole thing wide open – doesn’t it, though?


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon returns the favor.

SIMON

I’m so spent. Christ what was that?

I’m numb. Maybe paralyzed?? It takes me a minute to gather the strength to wiggle my toes just to check. Ok, we’re good.

I can feel my magic simmering.

I didn’t “go off” in the historical sense of that word (for me). But I did feel tapped into magic, especially at the end when I couldn’t stop coming.

I’ve jerked off before, of course. It never felt like that.

This felt like I was tapping into some bottomless reservoir within _me_ — not some kind of external magic force I’m drawing from the earth.

The act of physically releasing something ( a bodily fluid ) while going off was a hundred times more satisfying than The previous version.

Hopefully no damage was done to the atmosphere. I am going to have to have a deeply embarrassing conversation with Penny’s dad tomorrow, I can see it now.

Oh well. Despite what I said earlier about being sick and tired of putting everyone else’s needs above my own, I actually do care a lot about protecting the world of magic. Especially now that I have some back. (Funny how getting off helped clear that up.)

  
I will try not to go off again like that tonight...just in case. I want Baz inside me. I still desire that above all else. But I am actually a tiny bit worried about the repercussions of it.

Just the thought of him inside me — or frankly doing anything around or to my ass — is enough to spark a new fire in my utterly exhausted cock. I thought for sure I’d need 20-30 minutes to recover after that insane amount of come.

But, nope, the sharp pang of desire is piercing my balls as soon as I even imagine Baz near my hole.

Merlin what is it about that that’s so triggering for me? I cannot say.

Maybe it’s just that it’s so different from what I thought sex would be like for me before.

(When I stop and think about it, I never had “real” fantasies about Agatha. Never thought about licking or fingering her, making her wet. When I occasionally wanked off to thoughts of her it was a fairy tale ideal of a princess, like dipping into a magical honeypot or politely humping her. Nothing like the nitty gritty dirty thoughts I have about Baz.)

Every night he doesn’t spend in my bed, I work myself into a right strop thinking about is his body, his smell, the way he moves, the way I imagine he tastes.

I guess I had arrested development, sexually speaking, before I kissed Baz. I didn’t have a clue what I really wanted and now that I do, it’s absolutely terrifying how drunk I can get on simple thoughts of it/him.

I imagine it’s a lot like what Normal teenagers experience when they’re 12 or 13. A passing sexy thought can force me into the restroom for relief. I’m overwrought truth be told.

I wonder how many times young Basilton jerked off to thoughts of me while I was in the room just 2 feet away - innocent and clueless? 40, 50, nightly? I wonder what those thoughts were? I amuse (abuse) myself all day with thoughts like these.

We are curled into a silent comfortable cuddle. I know he knows this session isn’t over yet. It’s just a brief cooling off, for the sake of our sanity. We’ve hardly started and things are already over the top.

His arms are folded up behind his head and I’m draped over his left side, my head resting on its favorite spot, his chest, listening to the rise and fall of his breath and the faint beat of his heart. Which isn’t all that faint right now to be honest.

I move slightly to worm my fingers into his still buttoned shirt. Then I decide to pick up his wand and try something. I give him a quick glance first for permission to touch his wand. He nods inquisitively.

I say “come undone” and the buttons slowly peel themselves from their button holes. Waste of magic, I used to say, but now it feels fanfuckingtastic.

Baz and I share an astonished smile as I place his wand gently back on the side table. And now that his chiseled torso is bare, I press my ear directly to his chest and rest there.

I feel whirrings and poundings and gurglings that typically only occur after he feeds. Hmm, I wonder when he snuck in a feeding? Can’t recall him leaving for one all day, much less since our date began at the theatre.

Maybe he got a chance to take down that emergency packet of blood while my slow ass was trying to make it up the stairs. Super speed. Sigh.

I run my hands over his hard chest and thin taut stomach. I’m sweeping my hand lazily back and forth back and forth just above his belt line. And his breathing gets louder and faster. Then it stops entirely for a minute as my hand moves to his belt buckle and gently works it out of its vice.

I’ve still got one arm trapped under me, and I know that I’ll look foolish if I even attempt to undo his tailored pants with one hand, so I reposition myself above him on all fours. He gasps at the sight of me from this angle, I know it reminds him fondly of our first night together in Hampshire. For good measure I open my mouth and lick my lips while staring at his. He laughs and cranes his neck up to meet my mouth with his.

Then I release him back to lying down as I proceed with unfastening and unzipping Baez’s pants.

I’m enjoying taking my time and starting this out calmly. But Baz doesn’t seem too calm anymore. He has an almost menacing glare on his face. I suspect he’s wondering what I’m thinking, what I’m going to do to him. Is it his turn for a blowjob, will it just be a handjob, or will I tease him then tell him to put it in me.

It’s astonishing to me that we haven’t said a word to each other (besides my moaning his name) this whole time. This is not typical of us. At all. But I suppose it makes sense.

Before, all we were allowed to use was our mouth - talking or snogging. Now that everything else is on the table, who needs words?

Turns out I do. I lean down to kiss his mouth and tell him “I love you. I’m just gonna have a taste of you like you had of me, ok?” He swallows dryly and nods. As I work his pants and knickers all the way off, he seems skittish and a little nervous.

He’s perfectly beautiful and graceful down there, exactly as I knew he would be. He’s pale but there’s a purple undertone that his cock has that the rest of him doesn’t. I don’t see any big veins. He’s semi hard. Full but not straining up towards the sky. Still on all fours straddling him on my bed, I shuffle backwards towards the foot of the bed to position my face above his cock. I lean down and nuzzle it. I run my nose down first sniffing deeply, longing to soak up all his delicious scents.

Then I return to the base and gently trail my mouth, lips closed, from base to tip. At the bottom, the tip of my tongue darts out ever so briefly to swipe at his glistening petite orifice. He hisses kind of like a cat. It’s adorable.

He’s closed his eyes as if it hurts to look at us. But after that hiss he decides he can’t stand the suspense and he opens his eyes to see what I’m going to do next.

No longer is his cock sitting patiently and horizontally on top of his thighs. It is pointing straight up at the ceiling. Which is handy because my next move was going to be to lift it there anyway to deliver a long delirious lick down his underside.

Baz is agitated as fuck. I’m licking him up and down and stopping briefly to kiss or lick his slick opening.

He’s now actually using his right arm to pull his left forearm tight against his own eyes. I suspect the visuals might be too much when paired with the sensations. He’s trying not to ejaculate too prematurely. I understand and completely would not judge him, he’s only imagined this for 3 years straight.

He’s probably naming favorite composers or something in an attempt to successfully make it to the blowjob part of this blowjob.

I try pushing a little bit of my magic into him to soothe his unraveling senses. Something similar to what my magic was doing to me when it was my turn to try and hold off.

I think it might’ve worked. I can sort of feel the connection being made and the subtle transfer of energy. Nowhere near as strong as it was before, but definitely not nothing.

A few moments later he releases his arm from his eyes and looks up with more characteristic Baz-like calm. I take that as a sign that the time is right to dive in.

I grasp him firmly by the base of his cock and pull him up while I quickly lick and cup his balls in my mouth. Then I move my hand from the base of his cock to cradle his balls and I put the head of his cock into my eager mouth.

I swirl around it and carefully graze his edges with my teeth. Then I start flicking the underside of his head lightly with my tongue.

He’s humming and grunting whenever he’s not making a high pitched whine. He’s also writhing and bucking his hips lightly. I lower my mouth and begin to suck him off in earnest.

I lightly massage his balls as I work him further and further down my throat. I’m surprised to find I don’t have much trouble pushing him past the obvious stop point. Didn’t even know I was going to want to try that, but he glides easily to the deep back of my throat. I make some humming vibrating click sounds and even swallow rhythmically to use my Adam’s apple to help massage the tip of his cock.

I’m making awkward smacking sounds while trying to maintain suction. Just when it starts to feel like it’s too much, Baz places his hands on each side of my head and begins to thrash lightly and groan agitatedly. He manages to choke out “Arghfv Simon” before I feel a cool splash at the back of my throat. I pull him out more so I can hopefully catch some of his taste in my actual mouth before he’s all done.

He tastes earthy, metallic and somehow the faintest bit minty and I love everything about this man including his taste.

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pillow talk -- blood and magic, fluff and (light) angst

BAZ

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! That was so good. It is always so good with Simon. Everything about him is good and pure.

How can I even live with myself, taking a perfect virginal angel and sullying him up to the point where he's now licking my come off his lips and beaming with self-satisfaction at a job well done… before finally remembering that he didn’t suck his own cock off and looking over at me to make sure I did, in fact, look as satisfied by his performance as he was.

What kind of monster takes something that adorable and turns it into his sex toy?

Answer: anyone with working eyeballs. Simon is hottest most fuckable piece of ass most people – male or female, old or young, mage or Normal, gay or straight – have ever seen. When Dev and Niall finally came round to forgiving me for wasting their entire youth plotting against someone I secretly loved and never really wanted to hurt, even though they are both straight, rich, stuck-up bastards, they basically … kinda…. without actually saying it…. implied that, Yeah, they’d fuck Simon Snow too given the chance. Or at the very least that they fully understand why anyone would want to. It’s weird how simultaneously proud and threatened that made me feel.

“So…..that happened,” I say, smiling at him.

“Yep. Also…..my magic came back and now I can control it…..” he says.

“Yep.... Also…..apparently I don’t need to drink blood ever again anymore.

Simon is looking at me like What the Fuck?

"Because when I … uh … swallowed you before, my thirst for blood was instantly satisfied. I hadn’t fed for over 24 hours at that point and I was dying for blood. But then the possibility of … you know … was suddenly on the table and I just couldn’t tear myself away to feed. Figured I’d get you off first, run take care of my blood situation, then come back for … other things ….”

Simon can't even. His mouth is agape. It's like, of all the crazy-ass things that have ever happened to us – this is the craziest one.

“Are you fucking SERIOUS?!?!? I cannot believe it. I think that’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard!”

I mean…. he gets it. He gets me. It really is a mindblowing game changer. Having to skulk off and feed on a whole bunch of animals every 18-24 hours might not sound like the biggest burden in the world, but it’s kind of like the primary annoying thing that reminds me daily of my vampirism and what I lost in becoming one. Without needing to do that, I would actually feel human. Human with a freaky birth defect that caused my teeth to become abnormally large whenever I ate. Who gives a shit about that? I could be a real boy!! One with a very legitimate argument that....For the Good of Mankind.... Simon neeeeds to let me suck him off every day. Suddenly I grow very hot around my nonexistent collar.

“So, what, like....do you think it’s because you consumed thousands of my little tiny babies?” Simon actually says. Out loud.

“Jesus Christ. It’s not like the thought hadn’t crossed my mind, but I can’t believe you just said that. Is nothing sacred, Snow?” I hide my face in mock shame at his inability to keep certain thoughts to himself. Or at least find a more appropriate way to express them.

“I mean, of course, I _hope_ you know they’re not little tiny babies yet. They don’t turn into human embryos or start to grow any blood or anything unless they make it to the inside a woman’s egg and implant in her uterus, and so on and so forth... concordingly....."

"I know you didn’t have anyone to teach you the birds and the bees and I’m not trying to be an asshole, I swear I’m not,” I say because he’s trying to punch me in the stomach now. “But, anyway, I have no idea. Maybe it’s the DNA that’s actually important, or something?? Or maybe it just has to be some kind of important lifeblood-like substance. Vampires have to consume life to stay alive, we know that. But, you can just as easily call semen life if you call blood life, don’t you think? We’re dark magickal creatures, maybe exactness isn’t important.”

Simon looks like he just got helplessly lost in a logic loop, and for once I’m not feeling all that superior to him at the moment. I don’t fucking know.

“I’ve never tried eating raw eggs. Maybe I should try that,” I say.

He bursts out laughing.

“Yep, this confirms it. We are officially the weirdest couple on the face of the planet. And this might be the weirdest conversation we’ve ever had. And, like, I killed a demonic shadow version of my 11 year old self who was out to destroy our world. So that’s saying something.”

We ponder this silently for a moment, both lying in bed naked, head on our respective pillows, white sheet and light blanket up to our waists. The picture of teenage vampire/mage post-coital bliss.

“I GOT MY MAGIC BACK!!” he suddenly says with an enormous smile.

“Hah, I know that, love. It’s by far the biggest headline of a really big news day. I just don’t know how to process it yet or how much we should hang our hats on it.”

"Yep,” he says succinctly. And a little sadly. And I can already sort of feel him floating off to his thousand yard place again, and I don’t want him to do that right now.

“ANYways… about the vampire thing....you do realize what this means, don’t you,” I say. He instantly turns the darkest shade of red I’ve seen him in a long while. Not his cheeks, like his entire neck and face. Beet red. But he still manages to turn toward me sexily and say, “Well I guess it means my beautiful boyfriend has to suck my cock every day.”

And I die. He delivered that line with a straight face. As if we’re two actual grown ups. Who have sex. Together. Often. And don’t get embarrassed by it. And I’m turned on as hell by this new Simon. Then he breaks character and bursts out in an embarrassed giggle like the actual 12 year old that he is. And I think maybe he was onto something with that acting comment he made at dinner. Had me bloody well fooled.

 

SIMON

I love this side of us. So much. I could laugh and flirt and talk with him forever. I am trying not to get into my head to debate the “Do I or Don’t I” question. And I love Baz for not even hinting around at it. I told him multiple times I intended to have full on anal sex with him tonight. But maybe oral is enough? I’m certain he’d consider it plenty. Having never had any kind of sex before, this was kind of a lot.

But I was so sure of myself before, that I needed him inside me. Tonight. I hate to not be a man of my word. Anyway, what changed? One epic orgasm and I just go “That’s enough for me, thanks!” That’s weak.

Fear that my powers returning means the Insidious Humdrum will too? Well, yeah, of course there’s that. But I _know_ that my magic feels different. Better. This time around. I have really, really high hope that this means it’s not toxic anymore.

Maybe it’s just generalized anxiety – fear that some other dark repercussion will insist on taking my bliss away. Maybe when we have sex, Baz will experience one moment of Pure Happiness and this will cause him to lose his soul and go on a brutal killing spree, and his aunt Fiona and I will have to hunt him down and put a stake in his heart. Shit, I really don’t need to watch any more old Buffy. Not helpful.

To indulge, or not indulge? Roll the dice, or not? I’ve been doing that a lot more lately. Indulging myself. In him. I was tired of being a bloody pathetic cross between Harry Potter and Oliver Twist all the time. So instead I’ve tried to focus on Baz. Enjoying him. Falling for him. Baz is the only thing I’m completely sure of in my life (besides Penny -- but having one platonic best friend does not a life make).

I don’t know what I want to be when I grow up. I don’t know if I will drown in uni, or not. I’ve not been to Normal school since I was 10, and I don’t recall being any more successful there than I was at Magickal schooling. I might very well be the Greatest Moron who ever lived. I have no idea.

But even if I was, Baz wouldn’t care. He would love me just as much and he’d support me no matter what I wanted to do – drop out and work at a coffee shop my whole life? Perfect. Live like his kept mistress or beloved housewife? As long as it made me happy, he’d say go for it. He has a bazillion dollars anyway and would happily spend them all on me, if I let him. Even if what I wanted was to struggle my way through school and I needed him and Penny tutor me through every subject, he'd hold my hand and be my biggest cheerleader. 

I literally don’t think I can misstep here. Even if I decided he wasn’t for me after all and fell madly in love with someone else (I WOULDN’T) he’d be my friend always (I think). Even if I accidentally broke his heart and slept with someone else, or got mad and left him (I swear to god, I WOULDN’T, but let’s just imagine a world where that could happen), he would take me back (I think) if he believed my heart was actually in it.

I can’t tell you how calm it makes me to know this. I don’t think I could have possibly recovered from last year’s events without it.

I no longer fear that he and Pen are just staying with me out of pity. That I'm dead weight without magic. Fuck that. There’s much more to me than magic and I know that. They certainly always have.

Worst case scenario, if he dies or I die. We would never recover fully from the loss, but at least we had this once. We had it all. True love. Lust. Passion. Best friendship. Family. I could honestly die happy right now, knowing I found this once and let myself experience it.

Well, almost. I think there’s still one thing that I want so badly that if I died right this second I’d have to spend the next 15-20 years hanging round waiting for the fucking veil to open again so I could finally get it.

I guess there's my answer.

Life’s too short.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shower time

SIMON

Mind made up. Tonight just feels too right. It feels … auspicious… and perfect. And I can’t wait. I give him a tantalizing look as I slide off my side of the bed, walk round to his side and grab his wand. “I’ll be back in a bit, okay baby?” His eyebrows literally could not get any higher. He catches my hand before I walk completely away and kisses it gently. And then he lightly reaches out and runs a graceful soft hand around the curve of my ass. Because he can do that now. And so he does.

He is dying to know what I am planning on doing with his wand alone in my bathroom. Of this I am sure.

I walk into my en suite and turn the shower on. Because it takes about 10 bloody minutes to warm up. I piss and then inspect my own ass as much as I can manage.

I stick my finger in it and smell myself. I don’t know how much I like it. Not enough to try licking it off, that’s for sure. I will shower well and "clean as a whistle" myself, hopefully that will work.

I suddenly realize I can **Some Like it Hot** my own shower. Because I have usable fucking magic now, praised be. And then I jump in there and start working myself up with an aggressive lather, using Baz’s posh soap, of course.

I put some of it on my finger and then stick it up my asshole, working it round in a circle a bit.

Then I reach outside of the shower and grab the wand, careful to keep it from getting too wet. I stick it inside of myself just a millimeter or so and say **Clean as a Whistle** and I can actually feel some of the bits lining my colon disappearing into thin air. I remove Baz's family heirloom wand from the crook of my anus, and lather it lightly with a soapy hand, and then wash it off and towel it dry, placing it back outside the shower curtain. Then I continue to work myself into a thick lather, with fingers and soap, rather turning myself on a bit in the process.

I wonder if there’s some kind of easier way to ready myself for Baz. Open Sesame or something like that. But I haven’t read up on it yet and all hell can break loose if you use the wrong spell on yourself. Damn I wish I could just pull up gay mage google on my phone, Normals have everything so easy by sheer virtue of their numbers.

 

BAZ

I’ve slipped into the bathroom unnoticed.

I let myself watch him, and I let myself enjoy it. At least for a few minutes.

He is prepping himself for what he told me he wanted to do tonight.

OK, good to know. Wonder why he didn’t let me in on it? I guess a boy deserves a little mystery, after all.

Fuuuuuuck I could watch him finger his own asshole all day every day and never get enough. He is the MOST.

He bends all the way over as far as he can – I guess to try and stretch himself out some more – and that’s when he notices me standing there, cock in hand of course, lips smacking. I am the Big Bad Wolf and I’m ready to eat him out. I mean up.

He just smiles and when he’s no longer bent over he beckons to me.

“Care to join?”

I don’t even dignify that with a response. I’m behind him before he can even blink. Aching to take over his duties for him.

First I place my hand on his shoulder and a light kiss on the mole at the base of his neck, and then I find myself finally touching my new favorite target.

I lightly graze up and down his entire crack a few times. He’s leaning forward, arm up against the wall of the shower, shuddering fairly violently considering how lightly I’m touching him. I put some soap in my hand and rub my lathered hand around there, just like he was doing.

He needn’t ever worry that his smell or taste would turn me off. I am actually disturbed. That isn’t just something I say.

But I love him and appreciate the thought, and respect his need to feel dignified and adored, so I go along with the routine.

I open his cheeks up a bit and just stare at his beautiful perfect hairless intoxicating tight starfish. Goddamn I could get lost in that hole. I place both my thumbs near it and pull his cheeks apart and flatten them as much as I can for a longer, better look at that glorious fuck hole. He’s kind of spazzing out I think. I smell his magic flaring up, even in the heady steamroom that is this shower.

But I have faith his magic is just being a little extra sensitive about his hole at the moment. It will even out, eventually, I hope. I love that this is obviously his #1 most triggery erogenous zone, but I would also love it if he’d be able to enjoy some administrations a bit more, not just go off every time I get within inches of touching it.

Fuck Fuck Fuck how I love him so. It is SO HOT how hot he is for me with regards to his ass.

My hands and thumbs are still kneading him, trying to spread eagle him, and then I move my right thumb to flick lightly over the tight cartilage that is his hole. Tiny brush strokes to no doubt spread a delicious fire through Simon Snow’s entire body.

Then I slip my thumb in and out of him several times as I hear Simon actually mewl. I don’t want him to come yet, so I pull back and lather up the shower poof with soap that I then wipe up and down his crack.

He’s less sensitive to this plastic item touching him than to me touching him directly, so this works to stall him out a bit.

Finally I decide I can’t worry whether or not he blows his load, this particular juncture isn’t about his load, and besides it will undoubtedly come back in no time. I lather up my entire hand and place just my middle finger inside him and begin to wiggle it round brazenly.

He freezes and tenses up, but not because it bothers or hurts him, he’s very obviously trying not to come.

After a moment, I can feel him begin to relax, somehow he made it past that particular danger zone. So now I begin swirling said middle finger around more widely trying to loosen him up. And after a fashion, I feel sufficiently comfortable adding my pointer finger to the mix.

I am poking them all the way in and then coming all the way out. Because I’m a devious fuck and I love driving this boy crazy. I lean over and spit in him, not because he needed lubrication, just because I want to. And I lick it out.

He is now banging his head against his arm on the wall, and I don’t believe I’ve ever been happier in my whole life. I’m still working both fingers into and around him, trying to stretch him out a bit in preparation for my ... not small cock.

And every now and then, I lean down and wiggle my tongue round him near the top of his hole, because I can't help myself. Or I pull my fingers out and just go to town licking up and down, up and down, up and down his hole. Then I try to form a suction cup with my mouth to suck on his entire anus. Then I stick a single finger in him and move it round and round the circle just to see the cartilage go whiter. I can't wait to see this hole dripping white come out of it. I wiggle my tongue all the way inside him, as far as this blasted angle will allow me to go, grabbing and kneading his cheeks apart to try and get the best purchase.

When I finally have my tongue somewhat close to as far as I’d like to stick it in, I add one extra finger inside him, and then my other hand slips up and under to cup at his balls and feel for his cock. I haven’t even touched it since I’ve been in here, silly me.

He is moaning with extreme abandon right now. One might even call it screaming if it weren’t for the loud shower also going.

I know this won’t last forever so I take this opportunity to remove my tongue and place three fingers inside him to really stretch him out. I’m scissoring them as widely as I can manage and he’s convulsing. I’ve still got his balls and cock in my left hand and I feel them pucker tightly. I swiftly swing him 90 degrees around and move myself 90 degrees around to place my mouth on his cock and capture his come in my mouth --- in light of recent revelations.

The guttural grunts and cries he makes as he comes are goddamned indecent and should definitely be illegal, and he knows it. He’s such a bloody cock tease. But I simply don’t have the leisure of being able to come along side him in the shower right now. I have obligations to tend to once I get him back in that bed.

Soon as I’m sure he’s all done coming, I move myself back to my post to continue my three pronged assault on his hole. He is actually begging me to stop but I don’t relent. This is where the sadist rubber meets the road. I keep up the punishing pace and then place my mouth on him for one more tonguing. I’m not stopping my readiness campaign, no matter what he says.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He is pursing his lips and trying to jut out his chin to seem more brave. His eyes are defiant, vulnerable, scared. Hero victim card. Well played, Snow. The effect he’s having on me brings out my worst desires to taunt and humiliate him.
> 
> “You’ve been looking forward to this for a long time. Haven’t you?

BAZ

OK, I think that’s enough. He is ready. I am _more_ than ready. I put three fingers in him and leave them there while I stand up, and shake out my neck, back and legs, trying to work some feeling back into my toes. I place my right hand between his shoulder blades for a moment, and then move it to turn off the shower. I move my hand back to the same spot on his back and gently rub his shoulders for a second before leaving him again to reach outside for my wand.

It has one more job to do. I don’t have to actually put it inside him for it to work (you’re a bloody idiot, Snow). I just hold it out in the shower near both of us and say **The best is yet to come.**

It’s supposed to be one of the best sex spells there is because it allows you to come more than once in a row and with escalating intensity. Some women use it to enhance their natural capacity for multiple orgasm, but it’s mostly used on those of us not blessed with this particularly envious bit of magick.

Most guys are thrilled if the spell helps them hit a double. I’ve heard only an elite few can achieve a triple. Home runs are the stuff only legends are made of.

Helps if you’re really really happy with, into and in love with your partner, and if you’re in it for the long run, of course. If you’re having casual sex, don’t even bother. Usually when words like best or good or love are used, you have to actually feel it in order for the spell to work. Depression begets the dark. Happiness begets the light. Of course both can be powerful.

Supposedly …. the intensity of your climax steps up exponentially each time. I mean… this spell is practically begging for me to cast it. It’s like the perfect storm for the math geek, romantic sop, deranged pervert and obsessive competitor in me.

As soon as I cast it, I feel a bit more euphoric and more tuned in to my senses. I also feel my desire both heighten and fortify, as if I just put a few more miles between myself and my destination, but also gave me more energy and excitement for the journey. The goal will be harder to reach, but it will be that much sweeter when I do. Damn, magic is so cool.

SIMON

I feel a little better, I have a little more energy than before. Christ I was drained through. I’m getting close to reaching baseline, I’d say. I can’t believe I’m still here pinned up against the shower wall shivering cold with two maybe three of Baz’s elegant fingers stuck up my ass. That’s a little bit funny. Don’t ya think? And hot. Definitely getting warmer now. 

He’s actually being a little soft with me right now. I expect it’s a calm before the storm sort of situation. One of Baz’s favorite wartime strategies is playing you hot and cold. Thinking you’ve won something when he’s the least bit weak or kind, so you’ll only fall that much harder on your ass when he pulls the rug out.

Despite the fact that I love him madly and trust him with my life at least 10 times more than I trust my own self, I don’t think I’ll ever  _really_  trust him to, you know, not fuck with me, just a bit, just because he wants to and he can. It’s not usually mean spirited and it’s pretty much the lifeblood of our relationship. 

Heh lifeblood. That word is forever dirty to me now.

He removes his fingers from me, and he’s holding my hand and leading me out of the shower. He wraps me up in my biggest fluffiest whitest terrycloth towel that he’s spelled warm for me. He is literally toweling me off and drying my wet hair like a beloved child. He wraps the towel round my shoulders and then rests both his arms on top of it, grabbing a bit of my hair and earlobe and cheek with each one. He looks me in the eyes with more tenderness than I think I can handle and says “I love you so much Simon. Never forget that, love.”

Then he presses a kiss to my forehead and one on my mouth. And when he looks at me next he’s pulled down his haughtiest, most disaffected, I’m-so-much-better-than-you-are mask. Like he’s a goddamn king and I’m a goddamn peasant showing up at his court, wasting his time with silly basic wants and needs. He wears it so well.

It throws me off my warm fluffy pedestal, that’s for sure. I stiffen instantly and feel hairs and goosebumps prick up across the back of my neck. I’m in defense mode. Thinking about summoning my old sword, preparing against an attack or an unjust accusation of some sort.

(Don’t feel sorry for me. Didn’t you hear me earlier? This is the Baz I wanted in my bed tonight. The same one I subconsciously fell in love with so long ago. Or that my subconscious thought it was falling in love with. It was really just a very good act.)

I’ll always be a bit turned on by sadistic megalomaniacs who want to have a go at me. It’s ingrained. Deeply. And that’s a legacy Baz has to live with forever - sick fuck. Hope I don’t ever wind up ensnared by some notorious mass murderer. He’d never forgive himself. (But it’d serve him right, I think, illogically plotting against my own self interest just to get one over on him.)

BAZ

“Go to your room Snow,” I say to Simon coldly. “Wait for me on your bed.”

It’s Watford all over again. Inside I’m all soft and squishy on Simon but I have to pretend I want to squash him like a bug. It’s gonna take a while to get the hang of being an evil cunt to him again. Baby steps, I tell myself.

As I so often do, I start with self care. I step back into the shower and wash my hair. Then I get out and dry it, brush it, shave, brush my teeth, generally take my time going through my long form routine.

Finally I make my way into the room looking about as put together as it’s possible to be with nothing but a towel wrapped tightly around my waist. I find him sitting propped up against headboard and pillows, under his covers from waist down. I repress the hitch in my breath and swelling in my heart that tells me this is the most beautiful tawny bronze creature I’ve ever seen.

Eyebrows: do your thing. “Did I say to cover up?” I glower.

“Get up on your knees and let me have a look at you.”

“Hmm” I say disappointedly. Staring pointedly at the cock that’s not hard yet. Curling my lip up in faint disgust as my eyes and hands make their way round a few of his larger moles and bigger scars and imperfections (as if!).

I will myself to look askance at his ordinary maybe a tiny bit larger than average nipples. I brush one of them. And thumb it for a second until it’s hard. Then I pinch it. Leaving the other one untouched. “Just like a woman.” I say quietly. Neutrally.

Psychological warfare deployed.

He is pursing his lips and trying to jut out his chin to seem more brave. His eyes are defiant, vulnerable, scared. Hero victim card. Well played, Snow. The effect he’s having on me brings out my worst desires to taunt and humiliate him.

“I bet you’ve been looking forward to this for a long time. Haven’t you? Since that night in the forest. Or before. You’re obsessed with the thought of having me inside you, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Do you touch yourself there when I’m not around?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have any clue what you’re doing?”

Blank stare.

“Show me how you touch yourself when you think of me,” I command. He shuffles a bit closer to the end of the bed, where I’m standing, and lies down on top of the covers this time. Then he remembers something and turns over to reach into the night stand. Typical display of ineptitude, I think.

He opens a clear little bottle of lube it squeezes some onto his right middle finger. I didn’t know that was in there!! And then he sets it aside as he settles back down on his back and grabs his left leg and hitches it up a bit. Then he pushes his finger deep inside himself, first one then a second.

Then he surprises the actual fuck out of me by shuffling back up and craning to fish around the night stand drawer again. He pulls out an inconspicuous black cylinder shaped thing. Alright. That’s a dildo. Or a vibrator. I’m not sure. I DIDN’T KNOW THAT WAS IN THERE !!!!!!!

He puts it inside his lubed up hole as if it’s been there before, and then releases his leg to use both hands to twist the bottom of the device. A harsh loud buzzing sound emits. He shudders and shivers a bit, his eyes roll back into his head for a brief moment and his cheeks flush bright pink. Both sets. He’s using his left hand to wiggle this lucky piece of plastic round in a sweeping circular motion, then stopping sometimes to move it in and out for a while. His right hand is manhandling his now fully grown cock.

He looks at me for a second with a shit-eating grin that reveals to me he knows he is winning.

Then he goes back to looking innocently debauched.

Enough! No mercy. No weakness. No surrender.

“All fours. Now, Snow.” I try my best to make that sound bored, but I know all of my carefully cultivated façades are disintegrating. I pull both his arms back and use my hand to cuff both his wrists just above his ass. His head pushed down into the bed and his vibrator filled ass poking up towards the ceiling. Towards me. I can’t even see his bronze tresses anymore. That’s good. That’ll make this easier. All he is now is tawny, tight mole speckled asshole stuffed with a bargain basement ladies vibrator. That’s buzzing incessantly with no one to move it round. I bet that could get uncomfortable.

I’ll be damned if I’m gonna offer him any relief. I start by licking his ass cheeks, kneading and massaging them. I run my fingers lightly around all the curves and folds in this general vicinity. I release his arms but tell him to keep them still and under the pillow above his head, unless he wants me to spell them to the headboard. I scratch down his back and pull at his hair. I do not touch Buzzy. Buzzy is my friend. He is making Simon writhe and rock and whimper like a dog. It’s downright ungentlemanly.

I pinch his ass cheeks very hard and then slap them harder still. Right, left, right again. Leaving deep red handprints there to mark him as my prey.

I stick my thumb right at the base of his tailbone/top of his crack. Applying firm pressure and moving it ever so slowly - as if accidentally - just enough to help drive him mad. Buzzy is mesmerizing. The whole scene is one for my spank bank eternity hall of fame. He is begging pathetically now.

“Baz.    Please.     Baz.     Please.” I’ve got my rock hard cock out in my hands and I slap it firmly against his cheeks right where my handprints are. “Goddammit Baz,” he says, harshly now. “Please.   PLEASE touch me.    Move it.    Around.    Take it out.    Fuck me.    Please.   Please. _\---indecipherable sob_.”

Alarm bells are going off in my body. I’m dangerously close to release. “Focus, Baz, de-escalate the situation. Get your shit together at least long enough to make it inside his ass for more than 2 seconds.”

I picture Agatha, Possibelf, Penny, her mom, her dad, Ebb. I cast around for anyone who doesn’t make me hard – which is to say anyone who isn’t Simon – and I manage to settle down a bit.

I have to find a way to remove Buzzy (the torture device Simon practically gift wrapped and delivered into my evil hands, blessed fucking moron) without letting Simon win. Fuck it. Pick your battles, Pitch. I pull it out unceremoniously and replace it with my own spring-loaded cock. I press into him gently at first – because thankfully I remember it’s still his first time. (Despite the advanced-level trick-fucking we’ve somehow gotten ourselves embroiled in.)

But even after I can tell he’s adjusted to having me inside of him, I stay painfully still and slow. Because Simon Snow is trying to thrust himself backwards onto my cock to generate the friction he desperately craves. I have to use my super strength to keep his hips still. And just like that, I have the upper hand again.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And then he’s pushing me, so I push back. Again. And again. And again. I’ve got you now, I think. I’ve finally got you where I want you.

SIMON

Swear to god, if he doesn’t start moving soon….

Oh thank magic, he finally releases his hold on my hips and pulls almost all the way out. And then he’s pushing me, so I push back. Again. And again. And again. I’ve got you now, I think. I’ve finally got you where I want you.

BAZ

If Simon thinks I’m ever letting him go, he’s wrong. I want him like this always. Under my thumb. Under my hands. Full of my cock. I’m never going to stop. Never going to pull out. I am going to die fucking Simon Snow. Simon Snow is going to die fucking me.

SIMON

It feels so good. I’m a machine. My whole life leading me to this, riding him, moving up and down, pushing back further and further each time. I want to tell him it feels so good, but Baz’s cock is killing everything I’m trying to think.

BAZ

Simon is perfect. He feels perfect. Like actual heaven on earth. My perfect match. In a million years I could never explain how good it feels to be inside of him.

His magic is thick. It’s leaking and making me feel stupid. I adjust my weight and move just an inch to the left, and then I’m hitting a spot within him that I know is his prostate, because I can feel the extra jolt it gives his cock, the sudden sharpness of his musk, the faster thumping in his back. Vampires know things. About humans. It’s easy to tell how things affect them. I am memorizing every muscle twitch, noise, breath and pulse.

I know when he comes even before he does. His head drops suddenly and his hole tightens on me for a second or two and he shivers like a high fever just came on.

SIMON

I haven’t touched my cock this whole time.

Neither has Baz.

It’s like it’s been there, enjoying this, but this isn’t its show.

Then Baz suddenly hits a part of me that makes it ache. Itch. Flare. I feel like a cat that just desperately wants to scratch on something. And then I’m leaking. Not my magic but my cock. It’s not a lot, it’s little spurts, calm and unforced, like Baz is slowly milking it out with his magic or something.

Then it stops and I shudder and know I must’ve just come. But that was not a satisfying orgasm. Wait! NO! I can do better. Let me try that again.

Maybe he won’t even notice. Maybe he’ll last long enough that I can get hard again and finish louder, better, knock his fucking socks off so he never wants to fuck anyone else. Then I notice I’m not limp, not recovering, not any less achy for release than I was before.

Blimey, game on. Still.

What was that thing Baz said in the shower? Must’ve been a sex spell. I was dazed, didn’t even realize.

I suddenly feel embarrassed because now another part of me is leaking. My ass. I’m wet and sloppy down there and Baz is making these sloshy sounds. Did he come as well? Literally nothing else has changed. We didn’t skip a beat. We are still moving in the exact same rhythm at the exact same pace. He’s exactly as big and hard as he was before I felt wet. Maybe bigger. Harder. Does the spell make your cock grow every time you come? Fuck that’s brilliant.

BAZ

When I felt Simon let go, I let myself go too. But not all the way. I had control. Like my cock magickally said to me, we can go hard or soft, which way would you like us to go? And I chose soft. And then suddenly my body coiled itself up and let a sharp short burst out. It felt good, like a cobra bite. But not anywhere near as good as I know it _can_ feel, which is not what I’d expect for the first time my perfect boyfriend lets me fuck his perfect ass. I am looking down at said ass and said activity, and I feel my fangs and saliva crowd my mouth. I’m more lust filled and harder than ever, and I want to fuck him senseless until we both come again.

As we keep up the pace, I push him down at the back, because I want to feel his heartbeat and I want to shove his head down into the bed and demean him and use him like the soft little fuckhole that he is. I wonder, am I still supposed to be in character as Bad Baz? Should I switch gears and be soft? Looking down at the hole that just wants to be filled, the question is laughable. Not a chance in hell.

I will make him cower and come so hard it hurts. Then I will rescue him (from myself) and kiss the bad man away.

I’m drunk on all the possibilities. How far can I take this? Some seriously depraved thoughts fill my head.

How much does Snow really love me, I wonder. Does he even love the real me, or just this idealized tame version of me that he knows he fucking owns?


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More seriously depraved shit. Still reading? Good.

BAZ

I pull out of him and stand up. And my heart actually breaks looking at him dazed and foolish, eyes closed, panting heavily, hand lightly on his cock – alone on all fours with his legs spread and hole still gaping unnaturally without me in it. Not knowing I’m about to come down hard on him and make him work for it. I’ve been far too easy on him until now.

He is so dense, I don’t think he’s even noticed I’m not inside him anymore. I wait for him to figure it out. He’s still on all fours head turned away from me as he says softly “Baz?” Then he waits and I say nothing. “What are you .... Where did you go?” I still don’t say anything and finally he puts two and two together and collapses down on his belly first, then turns around to face whatever evil I’m plotting to destroy him with.

SIMON

The second he stopped moving in me and pulled out, I felt it, of course. I’m not the braindead idiot he sometimes thinks I am. I just figured he was trying to get comfortable or maybe wanted to do this in a different position. I didn’t move or question him. I’m playing the submissive, aren’t I? He’ll tell me when he’s ready. But I expected him back inside me any second and when it didn’t come I started to go crazy. Panic. Hyperventilate. If he doesn’t get back inside me and see this blasted sex spell through to its conclusion I will wind up in a mental institution, I’m certain.

He’s waiting for me to say something first and probably laughing cruelly at this this humiliating position he put me in. Well joke’s on him because I’m not going to give in or feel shame. _I_ orchestrated this, motherfucker, (why don’t you ever give me enough credit Baz? I am your nemesis -- your goddamned equal!). I was the one that asked for him to control me and gave him carte blanche to push all my old buttons again. (Well these are new buttons but still – same sentiment.) You can’t break me, you twat. You won’t be able to make me love you any less. Bring it on.

So I call his name out quietly as a test. Maybe I’m wrong and maybe he is making a quick adjustment and this isn’t the power play I think it is. But he stays quiet. So, I lie down and turn to face him.

_Furthermore Baz you evil goddamn git, I will beat you at your own game,_ I think violently at him. _I will play along so well that you’ll be begging me for months to forgive you for taking it too far. I don’t know if you’ve heard, but I am the Chosen One. I am made of motherfucking magic. All you’re made of is trouble._

I am lying on my back, touching myself gently and carefully painting my face with equal parts fear, lust, love and apple-cheeked wide-eyed protagonist.

“Babe?” I say timidly. “What’s wrong? Do you want us to stop?”

He is sneering at me and looking at me as if I revolt him. As if I’m a nameless piece of trash he took home from a bar and then regretted it even before he started fucking me, because I wasn’t fit or posh or smart enough. Not from “his world.”

Fuck, I see through it so clearly now. This is his Hide-my-true-feelings-from-Simon face — and it’s reallly really good. Like preternaturally magickally good. (He should be the actor, he’d win a million bloody Oscars, the twat.)

I don’t even feel dumb for not seeing it for what it was all those years. His face displays the perfect equal and opposite of what he’s really feeling/thinking. The softer he is on me the harsher and more convincing the mask is.

I can’t help but pause to roll back clips of him giving me this exact same look through the years at Watford. Christ. He love me – _so_ much – for _so_ long. God, I wish I could have figured it out earlier. What on earth would’ve happened if I had? I can’t help but smile at the (dirty) thought.

“What’s so funny? You finally figure out a knock knock joke you heard 10 years ago?”

Intelligence. Always a good trigger, baby, good job. What else you got?

_Okay Simon stop rooting for him. Play along, act wounded, don’t reveal how much more in love with him you just fell in the past 20 seconds, or else this whole sexual house of cards will fall before you get what you want._

I furrow my brow and bark, “Come off it Baz, get over here, get on top of me right now and let’s finish this.”

“Oh, really? You’re giving me orders in bed now, Snow? You? Mr. I don’t even know if I’m gay. Mr. What’s gay? Mr. Let’s just hold hands because I’m afraid of penises and don’t know how they work.”

Ok, I no longer have to pretend. I’m red faced and blustering now, clenching my fists. That hit a nerve.

“You will not be giving me any orders – you understand? You have no power here. No defenses. You are my victim, my prey, my fuck boy, my blood bag. I could end you in less than half a second, let’s just remember that.”

He is snarling and his fangs are out and his cock is hard and he has climbed onto the bed and is holding himself above me. Fuck he is so terrifyingly hot. He has both my hands pinned above my head and is hurting my wrists.

“Yes,” I croak out and swallow painfully, dryly, slowly. I think my throat has caved in on itself from the weight of my lust.

He is on fours lingering high above me with his hair hanging down, eyes wild, fangs out and drool pooling at the edge of his lip, threatening to escape onto my face. He is staring at my neck and I think he’s seriously considering going for my jugular. He does want to taste my blood. Interesting. I never really knew that before. (Wish I could be bothered to care.)

Instead he leans down and runs his mouth over the veins in my neck, lips and teeth lightly and tantalizingly grazing me. And then he pulls his head all the way back up.

“Kiss me,” he challenges. I meet his eyes with hesitation. He’s _never_ let me kiss him when his fangs are out.  _It’s like playing Russian roulette, Snow. It’s bloody stupid._ He doesn’t appear to think it’s stupid now.

“Let’s see if you can demonstrate a modicum of self control, or if you care more about cock than your own life.”

He releases my hands but stays put above me. I recognize this move. I invented it. Yes, I will cross this and every other line for you, better fucking believe it. I reach up hungrily, craning my neck and burning my abs to get to his delicious mouth.

When I get there, at the very last second, I remember his fangs are still very much out, and I slow myself. I prop one hand behind my back to bear my weight, bringing the other to his hair. And I slide my tongue under his lips, licking all the way across his top row of teeth from the front. Then I very dangerously do the same thing, but along the underside of his top row of teeth. Tongue running across all the sharp jagged edges.

And then I start sucking and licking and lapping at his right canine fang like it’s a mini version of Baz’s cock. Biting it, holding it between my teeth with my tongue pressing flat against and then flicking its venomous tip. If either of us slipped or jerked even a millimeter or two, I’d be infected. Baz is a statue. Not even breathing at this point, far as I can tell, but he is moaning inadvertently.

I begin to go after his left fang but I think he’s had enough. He pushes me down by the chest and holds me there a minute, feeling my thundering heartbeat and marveling at my brazen dance with death. His fangs retreat, but his hand creeps up higher and higher until it reaches my neck and squeezes me there. Like he’s reserving the right to choke me if I displease him.

“I guess you’re ready for more, aren’t you, dirty slag,” he says as I gasp, less at the slut-shaming, more at the thought of finally having him back inside me. I nod my assent eagerly.

“You want this cock more than you’ve ever wanted anything before?”

Nod wildly.

“More than you wanted Agatha to be your girl?”

Nod aggressively.

“More than you wanted to kill the Humdrum?”

Nod.

“More than you wanted a family?”

I assess briefly. My desire to have a family never made me feel like my cock was going to fall off or like I was going to wind up going on a mad killing spree if I didn’t get it. So I guess, in a sense, I do want his cock more than that. So I nod.

“Good boy,” he says moving his hand from my throat to caress my cheek. And then moving it down to run his thumb across my chapped lips. He sticks it in my mouth and I suck it.

“Now what are you gonna do about it,” he asks.

Okay. My turn to pick the position, I deduce correctly.

I put both arms around his upper back and pull him down hard, flattening his stomach against mine. Then I flip us over, pressing every bit of my 15 lb advantage on him into the bed.

I have his hands in mine and I thread our fingers together, palms flat. Then I put some of my weight into them as I raise myself onto my knees, lift my torso and position my ass crack right atop his cock.

I like the feel of it grazing between my cheeks so I grind up and down a few times. But we’ve graduated from dry (wet?) humping.

I release his hands and grab some of my lube, as I pour a little out to reapply against my hole. And then I use my hand to line him up straight onto my entrance and press down on him. Subsuming him. Holding him still until I adjust to having his girth and depth in me again.

If I’m being honest, I hold him still a little longer than strictly necessary, just for payback. I see his eyes roll back in his head and then finally tense my thighs and lift myself up then down again.

I begin slowly rising and falling on his beautiful cock. Loving the exquisite pressure it applies both to my tight sensitive ring and to my inside cavity just generally. I love how well he fills me. And how it feels to ride him. Up down up down up down over and over with blissful monotony.

The burn of _compulsion_ is back – like there’s nothing in the world that exists other than my need to create friction between us so we can get off harder and then harder still. Funny how magick tells you what it wants. I know how to effectuate this spell even though I have no idea what spell it is.

I am pinning him down at his shoulders and he feels so good as I ride him hard. His hand is slipped lightly over me so that when I thrust forward, it’s like I’m entering a little makeshift hole of my own.

I wish he could feel exactly what I feel and I could feel exactly what he feels, I think, offhandedly. And then it materializes. Because I’m Simon Snow and everything is complicated displays of godlike magick with me, apparently. Even without me meaning for it to be.

I have activated our mindmeld thing, like we did with the dragon. And with the stars.

I can feel how good it feels to be inside him. (Even though he’s the one inside me.) I can feel that he can feel how it good it feels to have me inside filling his hole. It’s like having sex in quadruplicate. It’s bloody complicated and overstimulating.

I see him reel from the sudden shock of the sensations.

He stills me and tells me to turn around.

OK.... not positive how this helps him, but perhaps looking at my face while he and I are both experiencing this agonizing double your pleasure thing is just too much. I am too full of his cock and too brimming over with my own come to argue. I swing my legs round and twist on him a full 180 degrees without lifting off him an inch. Fuck that felt good. Wish I could do that all day without getting dizzy.

And to my great surprise I like this reverse cowgirl position even better. It hits me in exactly the right spot. Prostrate engaged. I punish it. Pound Baz’s cock onto it. I have hardly touched my own cock and yet, once again, I am ready to explode.

I start wailing louder than before and I suppose that helps Baz clue in to the time bomb between my legs. I close my eyes to try to put some distance between myself and my orgasm, and as soon as I do, suddenly I’m back amongst the same stars we traveled to when Baz cast twinkle twinkle last year.

And then, because Baz is a fucking asshole, he ruins my beautiful celestial peace by slipping a lubed up finger inside me right next to his cock and reaching round to my front side and grabbing my balls and making a tight ring at the base of my cock. He says "on your mark, get set, go" with magic, and then it feels like both our orgasms suddenly got out of a prison we didn’t even know they were in. 

The freedom is powerful. So is the trajectory of my own jizz.

Due to unfortunate positioning, it hits me square in my own face. My own sticky, tacky come is everywhere, my eyes, eyelashes, hair, even my own mouth. I hardly even have any time to revel in the deparvity of tasting my own undiluted come in my mouth before my entire body spasms from an arctic blast inside.

Baz has just shot off powerful load of freezing cold come, and it constricts my insides and makes my asshole clamp down hard, even though Baz is still in me.

I release a tiny bit more come as I experience the painful pleasure of popping my tightened semi-frozen asshole over the swollen head of Baz’s cock. Still just as hard and just as big as before it came. Oh lord, so is mine.

This is honestly a sick joke.

A curse not a spell.

My cock is spent 15 ways from Sunday and yet it Still. Wants. More. It wants something Epic. Something worthy of Simon Snow. It’s not going to rest until it gets it. This next time better do the trick, or else Baz and I really will kill each other, after all.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epic shagfest draws to a close

SIMON

Shit, I was expecting a break. A little lying down and dirty talking, maybe, like last time. Baz is obviously not. He climbed on top of me the second I laid myself down and is nestled between my legs. He wipes my face off with a sheet, and I turn red remembering what just happened to me.

I love him but I am sweating so much and feel so filthy, I almost don’t even want this right now. But he is a lot cooler than me, so I relax and decide not to worry about turning him off with my flop sweat and allow him to cool me down. We reconnect sweetly, chests and mouths pressed together. I deepen the kiss because I can never get enough of our tongues in each other’s mouths.

And before long, he’s lifting my leg and squeezing himself back inside me. I wince, because we’ve been going at it hard for well over an hour, and I’m so sore. He freezes and looks deeply ashamed, but I nod to him encouragingly.

“S’alright, love. I want to,” and I look down at my bulging cock for emphasis. This puts an even guiltier look on his face, because not only was it his magnificent cock and gift for sexual domination that made me sore, he’s responsible for the particularly irresponsible bit of spellwork that put us in this predicament, compelled to keep going, even when we probably should give it a rest.

“One more go, but this time we do it _my_ way,” he coos at me, and I feel the hard tension in my lower belly dissolve into a thick molten puddle of warmth. And then he finishes pushing into me as gently as he can, and he flattens himself on top of me, connecting our torsos together as much as possible and kissing me deeply.

“I’m so sorry love, I didn’t mean it, any of it,” he whispers hoarsely in my ear, then sucks and bites the lobe gently as he rocks his hips into me.

“Don’t be,” I say and rub him gently on the back for extra reassurance.

“I made you kiss me with my fangs out, that was – I don’t know what the fuck that was – but it could have hurt you, turned you even,” he says with his head buried deep in the crook of my neck.

I use my hands to bring his face up until I’m looking him in the eyes. “I asked for it. I told you that was what I wanted. And I did. I have never been so turned on in my whole life. There was a good 50 years worth of wanking material in there. But I know it’s not you and I’m sorry I made you. I think it was easier to imagine crossing over into having sex with you the bad boy rather than you the love of my life, the one who has my whole heart and soul.”

We continue making love, even as I keep rambling. “They say don’t put all your eggs in one basket. Well all my eggs are in your basket Baz, and I’m so scared sometimes.” Tears are brimming over and I try to magickally will them to go away but that just makes them spill down my cheeks. He licks both lines of tears, and that surprises me and amuses me enough to get me to snap out of it. I give him a warm smile and he meets it with his own.

“Don’t smile at me like that, Simon, I’m not supposed to look directly at the sun, I’ll go blind. I will always protect your eggs baby. Don’t even try hiding any away anywhere else, you hear me? You have all of mine, too, by the way, and you always have, you magnetic bastard.”

 BAZ

I’ve picked up a little bit of speed as we quit talking. I’ve relaxed back into the influence of the spell, where all that exists is him and me. I am playing him like a violin, my bow dragging back and forth across his tight resistance. And I think Simon has opened the mindmeld spigot again, because suddenly I’m fucking him in my favorite practice room at Watford, and somehow he’s both under me and watching us from the window of the door, stalking me as usual.

And then his mind takes the wheel and we’re fucking under the bleachers during one of my football matches. I can see myself out there playing on the pitch while I’m blissfully pounding away at him on the dirty ground. This is fun, but disorienting. Trippy is not a strong enough word to describe it, but it’s as close as I can come. We’re all over the place – emotionally, geographically and metaphorically.

I try opening my eyes and focusing on what’s happening in reality.

I’m rolling my hips into him to the beat of some kind of deeply ingrained rhythm, taking my length in and out of him while my hand grips and moves on him with equal force. I just keep grinding myself and stroking him, riding waves of pleasure and ecstacy.

Without even closing my eyes, though, I’m in another new location. We’re in the middle of an ocean, and for the first time we’re not fucking. We’re something else entirely. I’m a surfer and Simon is a wave, and we’re moving forward together with terrifying speed and force. But I’m not afraid, I’m controlling the wave in my own way and it’s controlling me in its own way, and I feel safe and calm as it envelops me in a perfect o-shaped tunnel that I don’t care if I ever come out of.

I shake my head violently and attempt to focus on fucking him so we can get our blissful release. I look down and see my purple cock plunging into his red raw hole. Dammit if it isn’t more agitating and hard-to-believe than our fantasy projections. The sight sound and smell of our slick, sweaty, earthly bodies – frantic, musky, messy, basely using each other to achieve blissful shattering orgasmic release.

Overstimulated, I close my eyes and try to retreat into my own head space alone. _Calm down and finish this as gracefully as you can, for Simon’s sake._ But there I feel an impending doom, an aura warning me that a seizure, or earthquake, or maybe an apocalypse is coming. I suddenly feel deep fissures forming within my body and vulnerable faultlines beginning to destabilize. Desperately seeking safety, I reach out for Simon’s mind and he is a blissful, glowing, imminently imploding star, a beautiful unstoppable fiery cosmic force.

I swipe my hand across his brow and say “Baby, open your eyes for me. I want you here with me when you come.” He looks at me and I at him and time actually stops (I can feel the earth stop turning so I know it’s true  – Ha, take that Bunce!!).

And then, we go off together – my earthquake, his black hole – 15 seconds of the purest cleanest pleasure and pain, followed by 15 more of sloppy aftershock and collapse.


	13. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, after a deep dark stroll through my head, figured we could all use a little fluffernutter sandwich.

Epilogue

 

PENNY

Oh bloody hell. The door is closed again and there’s been nary a peep since I got home at 4 today. It’s 9 bloody thirty.

Baz has kidnapped my roommate. Again. 4th or 5th time this week. I’m losing track.

(When does Simon eat?! And when does Baz feed??!! He never leaves the flat at super odd hours anymore and the rat situation in our alley is out of control!)

They do it seriously all the time. Night morning afternoon, epic shags.

No really, Simon’s told me all about it. Well... a lot about it anyway. I suspect he leaves a lot out.

But he did say that sometimes he makes Baz pretend to be evil and they pretend to be roommates again.

And Simon can do this mindwarp thing where they both feel like they’re actually back at Watford together. And they keep acting out all these different situations whereby one or the other professes their love, or they steal their first kiss out in the wavering wood, or they get drunk or a love spell goes awry and they accidentally hook up in their room at Mummers. 

Or sometimes they project themselves into an alternate universe where there is no magick(!) and they just pretend to meet each other as college students or rival coffee shop owners, or neighboring princes, or some such bollocks.

Very Rich Fantasy Life, those two.

I think it’s partially because of how into acting Simon has become. Also, it’s just really fucking cool that their magic works together like that. If Micah and I could do that, I’d never bloody leave the bedroom either and I’d be an American citizen by now!

They are precious though, really. I have never seen two happier or more in love people. And I’m including myself, sadly. Micah and I are totally solid, but our flame just does not burn that hot.

I’m starting to think that being straight is totally gay. M/M or F/F, that’s where all the action’s at these days.

Sometimes I kind of wish I could be Simon or Baz, just to feel what it’s like to be that hot and that hot on someone else. Or at the very least I sometimes wish they’d forget to put the bloody soundproofing spell on the door. I’m making myself a little hot just thinking about it. Eww, gross?? Come on, grow up. I’m not like attracted to either of them individually, but put em together and.... (fans self).

I’m a red blooded woman with working eyeballs, preconditioned by Jane Austen to be sexual tension/repressed pining’s bitch! And besides, who honestly doesn’t think it’s a little hot to think about two boys together? Even lesbians and straight boys can appreciate the scorching hotness that is Simon and Baz. I’ve actually seen it in their eyes!

Everyone envies them or wants to be them when they walk down the street together confidently hand in hand, or catch a little glimpse of tenderness between them or a sexy snog at a club. 

They’re my boys, I’m happy for them and I love them (both!) now so much! 

I could not be happier to report that it’s been a drama free, all around happy go lucky first semester of uni. For all of us. 

Surprisingly, out of all three of us, Simon is the one shining brightest in school. Baz and I are just poor suckers slogging away at required first year courses that are really really hard. 

Meanwhile Simon’s taking Body Motion 101 and Advanced Self Reflection. Only class he struggles with is Elocution, which Baz and I both find pretty fucking hilarious that he still has to take. (It’s haunting him!!)

He is the fastest rising star of his drama programme, having stunned everyone by snagging the lead role in the school’s production of Dear Evan Hansen. The skeptical part of me wonders if his magick has a role in this brilliant heretofore unknown talent of his. But who gives a fuck, really?

He’s still the strongest out of all of us - magickally speaking. Even though he can control it now, it’s still approximately 20 times more potent than my power, maybe 15 times more than Baz’s. 

He still doesn’t even need a wand. He IS his own wand, I honestly think that’s true. And most of the time he doesn’t even use real spells. He just thinks something and it happens. 

That’s another reason it wouldn’t suck to slip into Simon’s shoes for one day. To feel what that power must feel like. My dad checks for dead zones constantly all over the world, and he’s found zero. 

The way Simon describes it, in hindsight, he could tell that he was drawing his magick from the earth, from something ancient lin our atmosphere. Now he taps into only himself as a source of power. He’s some kind of self-sustaining nuclear power generator. It doesn’t make a lot of sense — but what about Simon ever has! He can get tired now. He can exhaust the limits of the magic within him. That’s something I consider a very good sign.

And he has not once “gone off” in the old blow up the dining hall sense. And, goodness, that makes me happy. 

He is loved, happy, magickal and useful. And that is more than any of us ever thought he would get. So I thank Crowley for Baz every single day. And for the fact that the three of us found each other and survived the horrendous trauma of growing up us. 

That’s it - that’s pretty much all that’s going on around here!! We’ll touch base if anything exciting ever happens, but I expect it to be nice and quiet till that double wedding ceremony we’ve got planned. Just kidding. Sort of. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks for reading this and to those of you who showed love with comments. That was a huge help, I can’t thank you enough. As a fan fiction writing virgin, I would love to hear more about what you liked - Or constructive comments about what you didn’t like as much. I have been a fan of so many of y’all’s work since I met Simon and Baz a couple years ago. Thanks for existing and helping me get through the empty wasteland (OTP speaking) that is this post carry on and pre wayward son era. Xxoo


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